


dick in a bottle

by belligerent (orphan_account)



Series: high school sux [1]
Category: Fantastic Four, Marvel, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Young Avengers (Comics)
Genre: Dick Jokes, Everyone still has superpowers they just all go to the same school lolzor, Fluff, Gen, High School, Rated for swearing, Teenagers, all teachers are original characters, johnny has a crush on peter, somewhat based off of my own
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-23
Updated: 2017-02-23
Packaged: 2018-09-26 13:20:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,868
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9898937
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/belligerent
Summary: After Ben dies, money adds up and Peter and May move into a smaller apartment on the other side of Queens.Peter, knowing that extra tuition and a commute would take up time and money that he doesn't have, switches schools.His first day is pretty wild.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i'm taking lots of creative liberties for this one.
> 
> yes i know johnny, in all his rich glory, wouldn't go to a school in queens. yes i know the young avengers don't live in queens. yes i know yes i know
> 
> i switched schools last month and everythings scary and im using peter to complain

Peter knows that it isn't May's fault. He knows that it isn't really his, either. If he was old enough to get a job, he would've done it forever ago. He knows this, and yet he still feels guilty.

 

Fifteen is one year too young for a paying job, their apartment is too expensive for just the two of them, and they're moving all the way across Queens.

 

Lots of people in New York City commute to school or work. With all of the public schools being so underfunded, people commute to go to a private school. Hell, if Peter wanted to, he could commute to his old school and stay with his friends. However, moving out of the neighborhood would up his tuition by almost three thousand dollars, not to mention the costs of the subway adding up. With Spider-Man and school and homework, he doesn't have time to commute. Even just twenty minutes round trip is too much.

 

He can't stay. Not when that would just make them continue to struggle.

 

So Peter packs his bags and he does not complain. He folds his Star Wars shirts and bundles up his cat socks. Halfway through his sophomore year, the day after midterms, Peter leaves Gwen and Harry and MJ and all of his other friends behind, and he does not complain.

 

May starts working more hours. Peter rarely sees her anymore, making him feel lonelier than ever. He feels like he's lost everyone. Even his internet friends who constantly reassure him and tell him that he'll meet nice people eventually cannot fully fill that empty hole in his chest.

 

His first day starts with him bee-lining for the guidance office, which he only finds due to signs and maps plastered on the main office door. Luckily, the main office is right near the front entrance. He's been in these walls once before to set up his class schedule, but he hadn't entered through the front door due to it locking at eight in the morning to fuck over late students. Entering the school from a different area is 100% confusing.

 

There's another reason that Peter's nervous. This school is actually quite prestigious, with the majority of its students being rich white kids.  The only reason Peter is going here and not the public school fifteen blocks south is due to scholarships, some of the money from Ben's life insurance, and an old bank account set aside specifically for high school tuition.

 

The guidance office is, due to the Parker Luck, locked. Peter feels like his hair is greasy, he knows it is, and it's kind of ruining his mood. People might hate him because they think that he's inferior to them. All because of some greasy hair.

 

This school is much bigger than his last. His old school had has about fifty kids a grade, but this new place has one-eighty. Hell, the main hallway has more lockers than the entirety of Midfield. It's scary. He's never done well with crowds.

 

He awkwardly waits outside the guidance office door, hoping that someone will come by. He needs to get his schedule printed out. Even though he knows what classes he's taking, he doesn't know any teacher names or room numbers.

 

The guidance counselor who he'd met with last time rushes past him to open the door. "I'm late, I'm late," she says,before acknowledging him. "Peter, right? Don't worry. I'll get you all set up right now." She beckons him to follow her.

 

The guidance office looks pretty much like his last one. Inspirational messages and college posters plastered on the walls. Something that Peter finds pretty neat is framed pictures of college logos, with the white space being filled in with signatures from assumably high school graduates. He wonders if his name will be up there some day. 

 

He sits down in her private office, flexing his hands against the comfy chair arms. He hopes his powers don't make him stick, since that happens when he's nervous. And gee, he sure is nervous.

 

"I've tried to align your schedule as much as possible with this girl, Kate Bishop. She's a sweetheart, a sweetheart. She's coming down to take you to French, okay?"

 

"Er, okay," Peter says. When he first had to choose a language three years ago, he had wanted to go for Spanish, since he already spoke it. However, he'd been told that was cheating and was signed up for French. Spanish would have been an easy A.

 

He hears footsteps walk up to the office, and a knock. "Is he here? Am I too late?"

 

"You're not too late, dear," the guidance counselor says through the door. "He's in here! Come in!"

 

Kate Bishop is of average height, and though she has a small frame, she's very muscled. Her arms, sticking out of her pretty expensive-looking blouse, are toned. Peter's in awe.

 

"You must be Peter," she says, and he stands up to shake her hand. Her fingers are noticeably calloused. Maybe she plays guitar or something. "I'm Kate."

 

"Nice to meet you," Peter responds, because he can't exactly introduce himself like he'd almost done. If he'd responded to "you must be Peter" with "I'm Peter," that would've just been silly.

 

"Kate, dear, I'm just printing out his schedule. You can tell Madame Rhea that it's my fault you're late."

 

"I already talked to her," Kate says. "She knows that Peter's coming, don't worry." This seems so immensely pleasing to the guidance counselor that she starts uttering words about how Kate is so sweet, so kind, so generous.

 

(Later, Peter finds out that Kate's father is one of the school's leading donors, so everyone treats her like a princess. Peter thinks that spending your whole life on a pedestal must be awfully lonely.)

 

* * *

 

 

Upon entering the French room and hearing the words "class, we have a new student today," Peter dutifully introduces himself.

 

"Bonjour. Je m'appelle Peter."

 

For a moment, it's silent. Then, a blond boy in the back of the room who looks awfully familiar says "Woah. He knows his stuff."

 

Peter blinks. "Uh," he says, taking the seat next to Kate. Introducing himself was the first thing he learned how to do back in seventh grade. This was supposed to be French III. Was he in the right class...?

 

Kate notices his expression and laughs. "We're mainly joking," she says. "Though none of us really speak that much French."

 

"None of you speak that much French ... in French class?" Peter's baffled.

 

"To be fair, a solid half of our class contains boys who never stop yapping. It's hard to learn with them around."

 

At his old school, Peter could look around a classroom and name everyone, their birthdays, and whether or not they had any siblings. Now, he looks around the room and only knows one name.

 

The kids are nice. They all seem really smart, and they all wear nice clothes. Not a single one of them has greasy hair. Peter feels like both the smallest person in the room and also like he's far too big.

 

* * *

 

 

After French class, there's a section on Peter's schedule that reads ADVISORY. However, instead of giving him a room number, right underneath just says EMPTY in big fat letters, for every day of the week. Peter decides to wait this time out in the library, since he knows how to get to the class after this. Maybe advisory is just like break.

 

He sets up shop in the library, placing down an old frayed paperback on an empty table. He's just about to slide into his seat when -

 

"Hey," someone barks. Peter looks up to see a librarian, who is currently looking at him as if he's vermin. "You can't fool me. I know you're trying to skip advisory. Get lost, kid."

 

Peter hesitates. "But sir, I don't-"

 

"Did I  _stutter_?"

 

At this, Peter quickly exits the library. He doesn't need to get sent to the principal's office on his first day. That wouldn't be very fun, even though he would probably be able to easily explain the misunderstanding. He guessing that he should probably go to guidance and get this all figured out.

 

Before he gets the chance, a scrawny kid - probably Peter's grade or the grade below - stops in front of him and squints. "Hey, I saw you leaving guidance this morning with Bishop. You're new, right?"

 

"Yeah," Peter says. "I'm Peter, what's your name?"

 

"Miles Morales," the kid introduces, for some reason using his full name. "What advisory are you in?"

 

Out of sheer awkwardness, Peter laughs. "About that," he says. "I just got kicked out of the library for not being in the advisory that I don't have."

 

"Oh, jeez," Miles says. "Alright, Pete, follow me. You can join my advisory. My advisor is the freshman gym teacher. She's pretty cool. Her wife is the reading specialist. You should join book club. I'm in it."

 

"That sounds cool," Peter says. "What even is advisory, anyway?"

 

"Basically, it's a study hall," Miles explains. "Most clubs meet during it. No one really does work in mine, though. We just eat and have conversations. It's fun."

 

"Huh," Peter says. "Sounds cool," he says for the second time. He feels the words repeating themselves in his head, and he feels the need to keep saying them.  _Sounds cool, sounds cool, sounds cool ...._ He swallows the words until they go away.

 

He can't be "different" here. Not near all the rich kids with their clean hair.

 

At his old school, Peter had been completely out of the closet. Everyone had known about him, even if he really never told anyone. He's just never found a reason to hide the fact that he likes all genders. People had thought that he was weird, sure, but he had been loved.

 

Now? Now it's like he's been shoved back into the closet without warning. Everyone here will assume that he's like them, unless he states otherwise. That feels like the obvious choice, since he'd been out at his old school, but he's scared. No one here knows him. If he comes out again, they'll never try to know him. They'll just label him a word that starts with f, and Peter's not talking about "fuck."

 

Maybe he should just wait a few weeks until he meets someone who he knows is okay with it. He doesn't want to lie, but ... he doesn't want to be hated. Not yet. Not when he has to spend two and a half more years here.

 

* * *

 

 

Miles walks into his advisory by going, "Chris, this is Peter. He's new, and we love him, and we're keeping him forever."

 

Chris, a middle-aged woman, smiles and her eyes crinkle. "Okay, Miles. How do you do, Peter?"

 

"I'm okay," he says. "Your school's, uh, pretty big."

 

"We're actually pretty small. Most high schools in New York have a thousand kids a school. We only have, what, 720?"

 

"My last school had two hundred," Peter says. 

 

"Wow," Chris says. "Why'd you move?" A few of the other students in the room look on in interest. 

 

"Oh, uh ..." Peter forgot to prepare for this. "We, uh, wanted someplace smaller."

 

"Oh, that happened to me, too," one of the students says, someone a little taller than Peter. "My sisters went to college and moved out, so we moved somewhere smaller. We got to stay in the neighborhood, though, so I guess we were lucky. I'm Eli, by the way."

 

Peter smiles. This is a pretty decent way to get the attention off of him. "How many siblings do you have?"

 

As Eli answers, Peter looks back at Miles. He seems nice enough, so maybe Peter should ask to sit with him at lunch. It seems like a better idea than going back to the library with the scary librarian.

 

When he asks, Miles beams. "Yeah, sure! When's your lunch block?"

 

 _What the shit is a lunch block?_ Doesn't everyone eat lunch at the same time? "I have no clue," he answers honestly. "I didn't even know there was more than one."

 

Miles laughs. "Do you have your schedule?" Peter hands it over.

 

"Science class always gets Lunch 4, so you don't have to eat in the middle of messing with chemicals or something. Tomorrow you have - okay, I have no idea what lunch block they do for 'Money Matters.' I didn't even know that was a class that was offered. You can just ask the teacher. Luckily, I also have Lunch 4 today, though I have L2 tomorrow."

 

"Though, I should warn you. My friends are weird."

 

* * *

 

 

"I'm Johnny. Do you want to see my penis?"

 

Peter stares. "Uh, no."

 

Johnny, the blond kid from Peter's French class and still looks incredibly familiar, pulls out a full water bottle with -

 

\- with a rather phallic-looking toy inside. It's one of those toys that grows in water over a day or two. Peter used to have them when he was younger, except his were usually shaped like flowers and dinosaurs.

 

Peter stares at the dick. "Why," he asks.

 

"I don't have answers," Miles says.

 

"You're cute," Johnny says.

 

Miles' other friends introduce themselves, except for Eli, who Peter already sort of knows. "I'm America," one of them says, and pops her bubblegum.

 

A blonde girl named Cassie introduces herself briefly, before going back to helping someone named Kamala with her homework.

 

Peter decides to throw caution into the wind. If they all hate him and they're all homophobes, he'd rather know now so he can find better friends. "By the way, I'm not straight," he says.

 

America, Johnny, and two boys named Teddy and Billy cackle. "Dude," they all say, in sync, "same."

 

* * *

  

"I think Johnny likes you," Miles says as he's leading Peter to the locker room. Peter has - ew - gym next, so Miles is going to lend him a pair of sweats. "I don't mean romantically. I think it's because you didn't mention who he was. He'd never admit it, but the spotlight can tire him out."

 

"Spotlight?" Peter repeats, confused. "What - is he that popular?"

 

Miles looks even more confused than Peter is. "Johnny Storm," he says, slow. "You don't know who Johnny Storm is?"

 

_Oh._

 

"That's why he looks so familiar," Peter says, and nods. "Yeah, I've even met the guy on the street once or twice. Can't believe I didn't recognize him."

 

It's not a lie. Spider-Man and the Human Torch don't team up often, but they have met once or twice. Johnny has bought him a hot dog before.

 

However, lots of people still think Spider-Man is more menace than superhero. The Human Torch is one of the only supers who likes him.

 

Miles' sweatpants are a bit tight on Peter, but they're better than running around in jeans, so Peter beams. "Thanks, man," he says, and almost wants to hug Miles. But then he remembers that straight boys are scared of affection, and he goes towards the gym.

 

Kate is one of the only girls who is done changing, and wanders over to Peter. "I saw you sitting with Miles at lunch," she says, in lieu of a greeting. "He's a nice kid. Do you like him?"

 

"Yeah," Peter says. "I think so."

 

"Yeah," Kate says. "I like that group, too, I'd love to hang out with them, but I don't know if they'd want me."

 

Peter smiles, a little sad for her. "They sure accepted me all right."

 

She smiles back.

 

 

* * *

 

 

They aren't running around. They're doing yoga.

 

Peter may or may not have forgotten to pretend to be bad at it. With only his hands touching the floor, and both legs intertwined together in the air, everyone in the room is trying not to stare. Except for Johnny, because subtle is apparently not in Johnny's dictionary.

 

"Dude," Johnny says from next to him. Kate is in front of them. "You're really flexible, and it's kind of killing me."

 

"It's not that hard," Peter says, because he's trying to procrastinate explaining how the hell he's doing this. It's not like he can say that he has superpowers.

 

The yoga instructor on the video screen tells them to go back to the downward facing dog, and Johnny groans. "I don't wanna," he says. "My arms are sore."

 

"It's basically just a tent," Peter says. "Become the tent, dude. Or the mountain. Or the, uh, pyramid?"

 

"There's already one tent in this room," Johnny mutters, "and that's all your fault."

 

Whatever the joke is, Peter doesn't understand it. Kate Bishop does, though, because she chokes on air.

 

* * *

 

 

May wakes him up when she gets home at midnight. "So?" she asks. "How was it?"

 

Peter mumbles. "May, I need sleep."

 

"I know, Peter, but come on, it's your first day. I thought about you at work the whole time. Humor me?"

 

"Kids were nice," Peter says. "They all had ... clean hair."

 

"You're very tired," May notes, having immediately changed her stance on the urgency of this conversation. "I think we should talk before school tomorrow, okay?"

 

"Yes, Aunt May," Peter says.

 

"I love you, dear."

 

"I love you  _so_ much, Aunt May. More than cheesecake."

**Author's Note:**

> some of the events in this story happened to me. these ones:  
> getting kicked out of the library for not being in "advisory" (though i didnt have a miles so i just awkwardly found a bench to sit on)  
> dick in a bottle  
> (on a sadder note the whole going from out of the closet to being back in it happened to me too. however my new school's a lot more homophobic than peter's new one)
> 
> there will be another work in this series focused more on everyones superpowers. also it might be spideytorch.


End file.
